


Freedom

by toesohnoes



Category: Lost
Genre: Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-13
Updated: 2006-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie asks Liam to trust him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom

Gag in his mouth, cuffs around his wrists, blindfold over his eyes; Liam's lost all sense of time. He doesn't know how long he's been like this, bound and at his brother's teasing mercy. He doesn't know why he consented to it either, to Charlie's headstrong request to be allowed to take charge for the night.

He just knows that he's hard and it's getting difficult to think clearly – especially when Charlie keeps doing _that_.

Light, gentle, feather-touches, over every inch of skin except the one part that needed it most. His attempts at thrusting his hips up have no effect whatever, and his erection remains ignored. Charlie's finger tickled up the inside of his thigh, and Liam couldn't remember when Charlie had last had a hit – that made him nervous. He knew that Charlie could get a little edgy when you took him off his heroin.

His fault, Liam knew that. It was him that had turned his virginal, Christian little brother – Liam could still remember Charlie's confident statement at the age of eight that he was _going_ to be a priest when he was older – into an incestuous, drug-addicted sodomite.

He can't explain it, he doesn't want to, but he feels a rush of pride at the idea. His hands form fists and he tugs hard at the cuffs when Charlie's mouth closes over his nipple, as that tongue flicks over his skin. The metal rattles uselessly against the bed posts, but he doesn't break free.

He doesn't think he wants to.

But he can't stop himself from trying, as Charlie starts to suck and little shivers run down his spine. His toes curl, and he moans desperately through the gag. He wonders if Charlie's trying to make him come without touching his cock once – he thinks that Charlie could manage it.

Charlie pulls back from him and the air of their hotel room hits his skin, chills it. He stays lost behind that blindfold, without a clue if Charlie's still there. He can't see him.

But he can _sense_ him, like he's always been able to. Pretty little Charlie, always the favourite of the family; look at him now. Tying up his brother and doing these things to him; their mother would be so proud.

That ever-present guilt starts to reassert itself, before he feels a scrape of teeth by his ear and he moans again, louder. Charlie chuckles, and the sound runs right though him. "You want me, right Liam? Me?"

And he wants to say yes, he wants to _scream_ it, wants to tell Charlie that he's wanted him since his baby brother turned fifteen and had his growth spurt, wants to yell at him to get on with this already, that he's waited long enough tonight, that if something doesn't happen soon he's going to go insane and withhold Charlie's drugs for the next months.

He just bites down on the cloth thrust into his mouth, and tugs angrily at the handcuffs. His wrists will hurt in the morning – right now, he doesn't care.

He just cares that Charlie's tongue is tracing its way down his neck, stopping to bite at his collarbone. He twitches at that, and a sound that he's sure is a whimper creeps out of his mouth. He's suddenly glad for the blindfold, because he thinks he might start crying. Charlie can't be allowed to see that. Liam's supposed to be the older brother, the strong one – strong ones don't cry.

But every inch of him feels raw and abused, and he's been robbed of his sight for far too long, and he grunts angrily as Charlie pulls back again and he's left with that fake sense of being all alone in his black world. Charlie hasn't left, he can feel the bed shifting, but he feels abandoned and this isn't—

Charlie licks the tip of his erection, too light and too quick and Liam thinks he's going to come from that single action alone. His hips thrust up but Charlie's there for him; hand on his hip, mouth around his cock, sucking and that's just _perfect_.

Liam goes limp against the handcuffs, aware of how strained his breaths sound but he's too far gone to care. If his hands were free he'd sink them into Charlie's hair and hold him down there, just to make sure he doesn't act like an idiot and pull back at the wrong moment – but that's the whole point in this exercise. They're not free. This is supposed to be about trust, about surrendering himself to Charlie. Liam's already discovered that he's not good at that.

Despite the torturous build-up, his orgasm takes him by surprise – it rips right through him when Charlie hums, once, around him. Charlie's hands, deceptively strong, hold him down as he bucks up, and that's just another way to trap him, to cage him.

Charlie pulls back and he can't tell if he swallows or not; maybe he doesn't want to know. He likes to imagine that Charlie loves the taste, recognises it as family, as home, but he knows that can't be true.

Moments later, the blindfold is removed and he winced back; the hotel lights are dim, but they still hurt his eyes, which had long since adapted to the dark. He watches Charlie, still fully clothed and how is that even possible? How can Charlie tie him down like that, tease him like that, without even removing his shirt? It hardly seems fair. It probably isn't – Liam thinks that, tonight, Charlie doesn't care about fair and unfair.

Charlie looks into his eyes as he moves to untie the gag. Liam's mouth tastes of cloth, thick and heavy so he's not surprised, just mildly disappointed, when Charlie doesn't immediately move in to kiss him.

Instead his hands shift to grab the key on the bedside cabinet, intent on releasing his arms. Liam relishes the idea of freedom, of breaking out of this false captivity Charlie has him in.

But he knows it's futile. He knows that one meaningful look from Charlie will have him on his back again, his wrists in those cuffs again.

To be perfectly honest, he thinks with a smile, he can't say he minds.


End file.
